


Evening Before White

by deeday



Category: No Fandom
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-14
Updated: 2015-05-14
Packaged: 2018-03-30 11:46:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3935632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deeday/pseuds/deeday





	Evening Before White

It’s traditional. It’s traditional. This is how it’s supposed to be. Stay here like you’re supposed to. This is what you’re supposed to do the night before your wedding. You sleep seperate.

But this night, I realized, would be the first night of me not sleeping next to him, cuddling into his arms and interlocking our hands, me on the outside curling over him, our breathing syncing up. I bit my lips, worrying about him having a nightmare and me not being there. The longer I thought about it, about him whimpering in his sleep with no one to wake him up, tears slipping down his face and sweat shining his chest, the less willpower I had to stay put in this stupid fucking bed. I tried to make it out like I should get up because he needed me, but I knew I wanted to go to him because I needed him too. Yes, maybe he would have a nightmare and I wouldn’t be there. But the other part of that was me being afraid to not be with him. We needed each other, I realized, and upon that realization I finally decided to go down the hall to his room. The hotel was old and beautiful, the one we had picked out, and it the wood floors creaked as I got up. The hall was chilly, a November draft blowing through the old windows, and I shivered in my lacy pajama get up that was apparently all my bridesmaids had packed for me. One door down was number twenty-seven, his room, and I slid his spare key in and closed the door softly behind me. His sleeping figure rose and fell softly and my heart felt tender and sore staring at him like this. I slid under the covers next to him but, heavy sleeper he is, he continued softly breathing peacefully. I suddenly noticed the pillow that I had never touched smelled oddly familiar... like my own perfume. I glanced at the bedside table and was warmed from the inside out to see that he had the perfume I typically wore, a vanilla and lavender spritz, was there. I knew he had sprayed the pillow I usually slept on with the perfume, and my eyes burned with tears and affection. I ghosted my fingers over his sinewy bare arms, leaning over to press kisses over his collarbones and chest. In a minute, he woke up, at first giving me a soft look, and then his eyes popped open. “You’re not supposed to... I thought you said”, he sputtered. He rolled onto his back and glanced at me, waiting for my answer explaining my change of heart. “Yeah, yeah...”, I said. “I know but... I don’t like the bed without you. I don’t... I don’t like sleeping without you”. His eyes softened even more and he placed a hand over my face as I slowly swung my hips over his, sitting gently on his lean stomach. “Baby...”, he groaned. “Aren’t we... supposed to, like, wait, for tomorrow at least? Isn’t that the tradition you wanted to go by?”. I could have laughed, how genuine and sweet his face was. But I shook my head. “No..I need you”, I breathed. And I did. I leaned down and kissed him, long and sweet, allowing his tongue to lathe against mine as my hands clutched his face and his hands held my bare hips. A few minutes later, I kissed my way down his neck, over his chest, down his torso, running my tongue through the fine hairs leading down to the waistband of his underwear. A low moan escaped his lips and I looked up to smirk at him but saw drying tears on his cheeks. I sat my chin onto the V-shaped line of his hips and looked up. “Were you...crying, love?”, I questioned. Even in the dark I saw his cheeks turn a little pink. He muttered the word nightmare and he could tell I wanted him to tell me, per usual. “I had this dream, that it was tomorrow, and my dad showed up, and dragged me back home from when we were kids and you were all alone in your wedding clothes and you looked so perfect and I never saw you...”. He was so choked up that he didn’t continue and I made my way back up his torso to kiss away the worry, chaste kisses over and over, running my hands over his sides and chest simultaneously. I held him as he sobered up, his tears drying, and I snaked back down to the foot of the bed. He seemed better now, over the nightmare, and a smile covered his pale face as I continued the little kisses. He was whispering to me, as he did often when we had sex, telling me all beautiful things about me, and though it was the night before our wedding, I still got red-cheeked hearing it. I kissed the soft insides of his strong thighs, sparse and light hairs brushing there. His lower belly trembled as I got higher and higher up his thigh and I smirked, triumphant that I still had this effect on him. I held onto his soft hips with one hand and pulled the waist of his pants down to his knees. I pressed kisses everywhere, eventually lathing my tongue over the base of his cock. He moaned quietly and I took him in my mouth completely, deep into my throat. I pressed my tongue into his slit, hard, and his legs pushed closed. I kneed them open again and added my hand over his member, taking his balls into my mouth and prodding them with my tongue. With my free hand, I ghosted my fingers over his soft perenium, and a high, breathy squeak escaped his lips. I moved both hands, then, down to pull and squeeze his balls while I deep throated him, using the tiniest bit of teeth like I knew he liked. In a few minutes he was coming and swallowing had never been more appropriate. But this was us, he and I. Sex was out communication, the way we showed love. Of course, we showed it in every way, but sex was the prime motivator. I couldn’t wait to see him down that isle tomorrow, knowing we had broken tradition and that I had had his dick in my mouth six hours before the ceremony was practically making me laugh right there. He seemed to be thinking the same thing because he pulled me up by the tops of my arms and kissed me, too much tongue and teeth and biting, but I loved it. “You’re so hot”, he murmured. “Sucking me off hours before our wedding...”. His voice was dark and raspy, the way it always was after he came. “I’m not fucking you, so it’s technically allowed”, I added, making him giggle a little too. This was who I was going to marry. The guy who I loved to have sex with, the guy who knew me best, the one who I needed and who needed me and who understood my need to be needed. There had never been hotter, truer, purer love than the two of us, and a thousand years of marriage and arguing and fucking sounded like heaven.


End file.
